Predicazioni/1Corinzi/Un solo corpo: contro l’idolatria dell’io/English version
One Body: Against the Idolatry of the Self
Nowadays, the "I" tends to become the center of everything—even of faith. But is it really possible to be a Christian alone? This reflection, starting from First Corinthians 12, frankly addresses the phenomenon of contemporary individualism—so-called "singularism"—and shows how it has also influenced the way we live the Christian life. Through the biblical image of the body, we are led to rediscover an often-forgotten truth: we are not called to live in isolation, but as members of a living organism, under the guidance of Christ. A timely word, which invites us to restore order between the individual, the community, and God.
Singularism
In our time, and increasingly, people struggle to build something together. There's mutual distrust, fragmentation, relationships that begin and end easily. The problem isn't just social: it's deeper.
A contemporary Italian philosopher, Dimitri D'Andrea, has described this phenomenon with an effective term: singularism [1]. By this word he means a radical form of individualism, where the "I" becomes absolute. It is not simply the awareness of one's own personal dignity, which must certainly always be safeguarded. It is something more: an I that no longer recognizes anything above itself and nothing stable around itself. What "I feel" becomes the ultimate criterion. Every bond is accepted only as long as it corresponds to me. Every community is only valid as long as it reflects me. The result is before our eyes: many voices, but no harmony; many relationships, but fragile; many initiatives, but without duration.
This way of thinking, alas, has not remained outside of Christian communities. It has also entered our way of being Christians. Today, a faith lived individually is increasingly widespread, selective in its listening, unwilling to be guided or corrected, and fragile in its connection to the community. We hear people say: "I live my faith my way," "I don't need the church," "I follow God, but not people." And even when we attend a community: we stay as long as "we feel good." We leave when something disturbs us, we seek confirmation, not transformation. Thus, without realizing it, the self also becomes the center of our spiritual life.
Now, however, it's important to clarify one thing. When Scripture speaks of community, of belonging, of mutual "submission," it is not speaking of authoritarianism. It is not justifying oppressive structures, nor rigid and sectarian models. The New Testament does not present the Church as a system of domination, but as an entity of service. Authority itself is described as care, responsibility, example, not control. It is a real order, yes, but not harsh; it is a structure, but not inhuman. We could say: it is a community firm in principles, but gentle in spirit. This is crucial, because many people today reject community not out of rebellion, but out of self-defense: they have seen or fear forms of authoritarianism. And we must state it clearly: those distortions do not represent the biblical model. But having said this—and precisely because this is true—a question remains we cannot avoid: Is it possible to be a Christian without truly belonging to a community? Is it possible to live in Christ while remaining spiritually isolated? The Word of God answers this question very clearly. And he does so through a simple and powerful image: that of the body. Listen to what the apostle Paul says in his first epistle to the Christians of Corinth.
The biblical text
“For as the body is one and has many members, but all the members of that one body, though many, are one body, so also is Christ. For by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews and Greeks, slaves and free—and were all given the one Spirit to drink. For the body is not one member but many. If the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” is it therefore not of the body? And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” is it therefore not of the body? If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole were hearing, where would the smell be? But now God has set the members, each one of them, in the body just as he pleased. If they were all one member, where would the body be? But now they are many members, yet one body. The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor the hand to the ear, “I have no need of you.” “The head says to the feet, ‘I have no need of you.’ On the contrary, the members of the body which seem to be weaker are indispensable. And those members of the body which we think less honorable we bestow with greater honor, and our less presentable members are given greater decency, while our presentable members have no need of this. But God composed the body, giving greater honor to the part which lacks it, that there should be no division in the body, but that the members should have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice with it. Now you are the body of Christ and individually members” (1 Corinthians 12:12-27).
The passage we have just heard is part of a section of the First Letter to the Corinthians in which the apostle Paul addresses concrete problems in the church of Corinth: divisions, rivalries, the pursuit of prestige, and the indiscriminate use of spiritual gifts. In that community, some believers tended to exalt themselves—especially based on their more visible gifts—while others felt inferior or useless. Paul intervenes to correct both distortions: on the one hand, individualistic pride, on the other, a sense of irrelevance. He does so by showing that the church is not a random collection of people, but a living organism willed by God, where each member has a place and a function. The image of the body, already familiar in the ancient world, is thus profoundly transformed: it no longer simply describes an ordered society, but the very reality of the Christian community united with Christ, in which unity does not erase diversity and diversity does not break unity.
1. Unity received, not built (vv. 12–13)
The apostle Paul begins with a fundamental statement: "As the body is one... so also is Christ." He doesn't say: you should become one body, but: you are one. The unity of the Church is not born of human effort, but of the work of God. "In one Spirit we were all baptized into one body." Unity, therefore, is not an achievement, but a gift received. It is not something we build when we feel comfortable together, but a reality that already exists, because it is founded in Christ.
But there is something even more fundamental. A body does not exist without a head. It does not exist without a center that guides it, coordinates it, gives it direction. And who is this head? It is not a human authority, it is not a hierarchy, it is not a leader who takes control. Scripture is clear: “He is the head of the body, the church” (Colossians 1:18). It is Christ himself. This means that the unity of the Church is maintained not by human structures, but by the living lordship of Christ, who works through his Word and his Spirit. He does not delegate his authority absolutely to anyone else. And this frees us from two opposing errors: on the one hand, individualism, where everyone does things on their own; on the other, authoritarianism, where someone takes Christ's place. No: in the Church, Christ is the head, and we are members of one another under him.
2. No one is self-sufficient (vv. 14–20)
Paul goes on to dismantle the idea of the self-sufficient individual. "The body is not made up of one member, but of many." And then he uses simple images: the foot cannot say "I am not of the body," the ear cannot exclude itself because it is different. Each member has a different shape, function, and position—but it is precisely this diversity that makes the life of the body possible. If everything were the same, the body would not exist.
Here the text speaks forcefully to our culture—and also to our experience of church. Singularity leads us to think: if I don't recognize myself in what I see, I withdraw. Or: if I don't feel valued, then I don't belong. But Paul says the opposite: you don't determine your belonging. "God has placed each member in the body just as he pleased." Your identity isn't self-constructed, but received. And your Christian life cannot exist without others.
3. No one is useless, no one is superior (vv. 21–25)
After correcting individualism, Paul also corrects another potential distortion: the idea that some are more important than others. "The eye cannot say to the hand, 'I have no need of you.'" And again: the weaker members are necessary, the less honorable ones receive greater honor. Here the apostle completely overturns human criteria of value and visibility. What in the world appears secondary becomes essential in the body.
This is important, because the answer to singularism is not a collectivism that crushes the individual. The Church is not a system where one's identity is lost, but where it is recognized and valued. There is no uniformity, but harmony. There is no domination, but mutual care. And this harmony is possible precisely because we are not the head. He is not the strongest, not the most visible, not the most influential. It is Christ. It is he who gives value to each member, it is he who establishes each person's place. When this is forgotten, either human domination or individualistic fragmentation inevitably emerge. But where Christ is recognized as the head, the community can experience true unity in diversity.
4. Living for Others: The End of Self-Idolatry (vv. 25–27)
Paul thus gets to the heart of his teaching: "that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another." And then: "If one member suffers, all suffer; if one is honored, all rejoice." This is the life of the body: not centered on itself, but oriented towards others. It is not just about structure, but about concrete love, real participation, and the sharing of life.
Here the idolatry of the self is exposed. In the world, we seek recognition: who sees me, who approves of me. In the body of Christ, however, the question changes: who do I care for? This isn't natural for us. It requires repentance. It requires the ego to descend from its throne. But it is precisely here that the Church becomes a witness: not perfect, but real, visible, different. A place where the individual and the community are not opposed, but find their order in Christ. "Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it."
5. Between Real Wounds and Real Calling: How to Discern Community
At this point, someone might think: "All well and good, but what about in practice? I can't be in that community: it's too authoritarian and sectarian. I can't be in that other one: it's too lacking in discipline and precise biblical guidelines. So what?" It's a serious question. And it must be taken seriously. Also because the church in Corinth, to which Paul wrote, was not an ideal community: it was marked by divisions, abuses, immaturity, even moral scandals. Yet Paul doesn't invite believers to leave and seek a perfect community elsewhere. Rather, he calls them to recognize what that community is in Christ, and to experience within it a process of correction, growth, and responsibility.
This doesn't mean turning a blind eye to errors, nor justifying authoritarian or lax tendencies. The New Testament is clear: truth and love must walk together. But it also means avoiding a subtle temptation: that of becoming permanent judges of the community, without ever truly engaging. Perhaps, then, rather than immediately seeking definitive answers, it's helpful to ask ourselves some questions before God: Am I seeking a community that transforms me, or one that confirms me? Am I willing to bear the burdens of others, or only evaluate their flaws? Am I avoiding difficult relationships for the sake of truth, or to protect my own ego? These are questions we don't easily resolve, but we must bring them to prayer, asking the Lord for light, humility, and discernment.
6. A model for the world: the Church as a visible sign
The image of the body is not limited to the internal life of the Church. It also has a broader, testimonial dimension. In a world marked by competition, fragmentation, and the inability to cooperate, the Church is called to demonstrate that it is possible to live differently: not by erasing differences, but by harmonizing them; not by imposing uniformity, but by cultivating unity in diversity. In this sense, the Christian community becomes a visible sign of a higher order, where different people contribute together to the common good.
This doesn't mean simply transferring the ecclesial model directly to politics or society. Rather, it means affirming a principle: humanity is not made to live as a sum of individuals in constant competition. It is made for a form of coexistence in which each person, with their own gifts and limitations, contributes to the good of others. The Church, when it truly lives as the body of Christ, anticipates and bears witness to this reality. Not perfectly, but truly. And precisely for this reason, it can speak to the world not only with words, but with its life.
Conclusion
We began with a diagnosis of our time: a self that tends to become absolute, to withdraw from all bonds, to live without mediation. We have seen how this mentality does not remain outside the Church, but risks also infiltrating our faith, transforming it into something private, selective, and self-centered. But the Word of God has shown us another reality: in Christ, we are not isolated individuals, but members of a body. A unity received, not constructed; diversity valued, not annulled; a life shared, not solitary. And above all: a body that has a head—Christ himself, living and working among his people.
This, however, leads us to a choice. Because it's not just about understanding, but about responding. The idolatry of the self isn't overcome by reasoning, but by repentance. It means recognizing where we've placed ourselves at the center, where we've avoided confrontation, where we've chosen distance over communion. It means returning to Christ not only as our personal Savior, but as a leader to whom we can submit with trust, knowing that his authority doesn't oppress, but guides; it doesn't crush, but gives life.
And so the Church becomes what it is called to be: not a human system, but a living body under the lordship of Christ. A place where the self is neither annihilated nor idolized; where the "we" does not oppress, but supports; where everything finds order under the guidance of the Lord. In a fragmented world, this is already a powerful testimony. And the question that remains is simple and personal: am I living under the guidance of Christ, as part of his body, or am I still trying to live alone?
Let us pray. Lord our God, we come before you, recognizing how easily our hearts close in on themselves. You created us to live in relationship with you and with others, yet so often we choose the path of self-sufficiency, detachment, and indifference. Forgive us, Lord, when we have made an idol of ourselves, when we have tried to live our faith in our own way, without allowing ourselves to be guided, without allowing ourselves to be corrected, without wanting to bear the burdens of others. We thank you because in Christ you have not called us to live alone, but have made us part of a body. Grant us, through the work of your Spirit, a humble heart, willing to listen, to learn, to serve. Teach us to recognize the value of others, to not despise anyone, to not feel superior or useless, but to live each one in the place you have given us, for the good of all. We also pray for our Christian communities: make them places of truth and love, firm in principles and gentle in spirit. Free us from every form of hardness, pride, and closure, but also from every superficiality and lack of discernment. May we grow together, supporting one another, and may our life together be a living testimony of your grace in the midst of this world. And now, Lord, guide us. Help us not to remain merely hearers of your Word, but to put it into practice, with faith and perseverance. To you be glory, in your Son Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.
Paolo Castellina, April 30, 2026